My Christmas Cheer

“You should go to bed early tonight,” mom told us, after Christmas Eve dinner.

“Whyyyy? I don’t wannnnt to . . .” whined my brother Peter, in his usual high-pitched tone. Mom smiled and picked him up, placed him on the bed, helped him get into his PJs and tucked him into bed.

“You will know why when you wake up in the morning.”

My older sister, Betty, and I scurried to our room, imagining the answer to Peter’s “why.” As soon as I climbed into bed, deep sleep fell over me. I was suddenly jerked awake when Kelly, my tiny white shitzu, broke out in feisty little barks. I quickly jumped out of bed and stealthily trailed after her yelps. They led me to our servant, Jung, whom I saw rushing to our front gate to pull open our tall, heavy metal doors . . . Wow! Hundreds of twinkling lights framed the dark entrance as shadows moved through the doors and into our yard. A halo of notes softly followed the mysterious figures.

“Silent Night. Holy Night . . .” one voice after another began. “All is calm. All is bright . . . .” The song filled the crisp night air with a haze of hallowed harmony. I tip-toed to our second floor kitchen and peered out through the window, watching the last candle float from the patio into the living room. As I turned to tip-toe back to bed, I overheard my grandparents, parents and their guests.

“Merry Christmas!” they cheered, and toasted, and laughed. Their spirits filled the air with the sweet scent and confidence that only happiness can manifest. I will never forget that night. 25 years later, I married on Christmas day. And even though 17 years later, I ended the marriage, to this day, Christmas is still my absolute favorite holiday.

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"Wake up Milly!" grandma whispered into my ears. 

"Good morning grandma!" I yawned and wrapped my arms around her neck to snuggle.

“It’s time to get up and go downstairs,” her half-moon shaped eyes glimmered with mischief. I slid down the banner of the staircase and into a fairy tale scene that took my breath away! Hanging boldly above the mantle were three ruby Christmas stockings, lit crimson by the crackling fire below. I was overwhelmed by the bright red Christmas corner of our living room. “You are the luckiest girl in the world!” my schoolmates would later say, green with envy. I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world. Today, I know it to be even more true. When I was just that small girl, eyes gleaming and heart as warm as those roaring flames, I didn’t realize just how unusual it was to grow up in a family in China that celebrated Christmas. And our Christmas was replete with Silent Night, a gorgeous fir tree, a dancing fire, stocking gifts and a huge roast duck on our dinner table!

I have reminisced about that Christmas Eve and Morning my entire life. Up to this day, my 24-year old daughter still makes personalized Christmas stockings filled with tens of tiny gifts, to be opened every Christmas morning. She started this tradition when she was a teenager – an age where she couldn’t afford large luxurious gifts, but could gather quite a hefty collection of small, meaningful ones.

Now that I think back, those gifts Jenny stashed in my stocking were the ideal presents. If parents everywhere could take all those big presents we have spent our hard-earned money on, and shrink them into stocking-size treats, our perspectives might alter with the size of our gifts. I think children would delight in pulling out tiny surprises from a giant, fuzzy sock, and they would truly appreciate every single treasure for what it was, and not for what they hoped it might be. After all, we don’t need endless amounts of gifts, bigger and better each year, to remind us what it’s all about – do we?

Either way, I know I will continue to appreciate every little piece, shape and sound that Christmas love and happiness take the form of. And I will continue to give and receive stockings every year, until every ounce of cheer has been spread, with enough left for my daughter and posterity to come.